By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. A native sold his supply of nuts in exchange for cloth, tobacco and so forth. " "Never fear, Sir," replied Marvel. .
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